Posts filed under 'Inappropriate Crushes'

This is going to be all OVER the place, y’all. Just like it used to be! Bullet-style:

– One of the things that plagues me on a fairly regular basis, is when one of your friends — someone you really like, who has proven to be of decent character and all that rot — is ALSO friends with someone who has proven to be morally bankrupt on more than one occasion, in my admittedly-strict viewpoint. Now, before I go on here, I want you to simmer down, Warren Beatty, because this song isn’t about you. I can think of at least two people who would think this is about them, but really, Warren, it isn’t.

But what do you do? I’ve voiced my opinion — even more gently than I normally would, I swear! — once or twice, and I’ve even PERSONALLY been screwed by the person in question and said something and YET THE RELATIONSHIP CONTINUES. Mind you, it’s not that I expect them to CHOOSE ME over them — this isn’t that kind of high school drama — it’s that I am MYSTIFIED how someone can still be friends with someone who has PROVEN to be such an absolute douche.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. It is honestly one of life’s greatest mysteries.

– If you’ll indulge me a moment of Glee, I was ALL HOT AND BOTHERED to see the return of Jesse St. James in what is certainly the most ridiculous crush imaginable. Yes, I am a 35-year-old married mother with a huge crush on an openly gay man playing a teenager, and while I have no issue with either of those things, of course, the problem is that no matter how you slice it, the fantasy doesn’t work. I would either have to turn into a man OR a teenager and neither really works for me. Yet, it persists.

However. They turned him into a one-dimensional vapid asshole, when yes, I realize that he royally screwed Rachel over last year, I ALSO thought there was some complexity to him and it’s … gone. I am ALSO angry at how they’ve turned Rachel into a sniveling GIRL who also suddenly turned stupid. Last season, Rachel was multi-dimensional, and what made her amazing was her incredible insight into HERSELF. And now she’s fawning over Jesse and saying things like, “He’s so smart! Can you believe he flunked out of college?” after he says something amazingly inane. And so we’re left with Kurt (and his personal orbit), the only character with any sort of heart, and honestly, it’s pissing me off, because it seems like Ryan Murphy is just re-writing his own history, and the only person he has any sort of generosity to is himself.

Also, uhhh, weren’t they juniors LAST YEAR? How long can they drag this out?

– I also have Strong Feelings on Friday Night Lights, and I’m telling you right now that I’m live-tweeting the episode for my bosses at Smart Pop Books, because an essay of mine is in the upcoming anthology on the show in its entirety. So, you know, fair warning. And while I LOVE this season, I have VERY LOUD OPINIONS on the finale, and as such, I can’t wait until all of you (all, um, four of you who watch it) have caught up so that we can discuss.

– One of the things I am shocked to discover that I am struggling with is getting Sam to enjoy reading. I KNOW. I KNOW. Are you as floored as I am? I am, above all things, A Reader. The periods of my life when I wasn’t relying on a book for my primary form of evening entertainment are few and far between. Even still, I’m usually either reading or writing, even while the TV is on in the background. I mean, I love TV, but if I had to choose, I’d choose a book any day of the week.

So how is it possible that she’s my child? We set aside time to read every day. I read CONSTANTLY. I’ve even taken to reading her books by myself, with rapt enthusiasm, just to make them seem interesting. Yes, we watch TV, but with few exceptions (involving DJ Lance), she’s really not that into it, and she almost NEVER sits still to watch a whole anything unless she’s positively exhausted OR it’s first thing in the morning, so I’m not panicked that she’s a TV head or anything. (I WISH she was one of those children who sat quietly and watched television for more than six minutes at a time. I could use that to my occasional advantage! NO DICE.)

She just … does other things. Swaddles Brobee. Draws. Listens to music and dances. Draws some more. Plays with her animals. Paints. Dances some more. Sings. Dances. Music. God, this kid is SO INTO MUSIC. And when there is no music? SHE MAKES ME SING SO SHE CAN DANCE.

And forget reading before bed — she’s ALL business. Once she became a prescient human being, she dropped the bedtime reading routine before it really got going. When she’s ready for bed, she wants to be IN THE BED. The second we start the bedtime routine, “BYE MAMA! NIGHT NIGHT!” and she’s finished. She wants to be in bed, lights out, my annoying mug out of her face. It doesn’t seem to matter how early we start — the moment she senses bedtime is nigh, she’s all about it, as soon as humanly possible, and thank you. (Yes, I know I’m lucky. Our bedtime ritual is three whole seconds long. “Kiss Daddy!” “BYE MAMA!” Aaaaaaand, fin.)

I’ve gotten her books on her favorite subjects — animals and bugs — and it sort of works, but man, if I had one trivial wish for my daughter, it would be that she loves to read, and right now, despite my best efforts, she’s not nearly as into it as I’d hoped.

Also, can we talk about the bug obsession for a moment here? BUGS. Ants are “cute!” Worms are “awesome!” She picks them all up and tries to take them home as pets! God forbid we see a bumblebee, because kid is BESIDE HERSELF with excitement. “It’s a BEE! A BEE!” and she lurches toward it, hands open. Explaining that although bumblebees look fuzzy and friendly, they REALLY need to be left alone, was a surprisingly rigorous parenting challenge.

But still. Books. Man. I mean, Adam and I both read. We have stacks and stacks of books and Kindles full of reading material. I have a to-read list that is more than 250 books long and I can’t get my kid to sit still long enough for “No, David!”?

Tell me: is all hope lost? Will she eschew reading forever? Will I be stuck raising an entomologist-slash-oboe player? Any tips are welcome.

– Speaking of TV, uhh, sort of, the only show I’m really looking forward to other than True Blood is “Falling Skies,” and I cannot WAIT.

– Speaking of BOOKS, we have plenty of interest in the book club, so stay tuned for more — as soon as I get it cleaned up and a new spam system in place, I’ll be hitting a re-launch. And to say I appreciate the offers of help is an understatement. I think this time it will probably be better than the last, because there was an INSANE AMOUNT OF INTEREST from people who … weren’t all that interested. I think this time has the potential to be smaller and more engaging. Honestly, even if only two of you said to do it, I would have. Fortunately, we have a bit more — but far fewer than the 600 we had the first time.

Thanks, everyone. I hope you have a fantastic Thursday. We’re getting our beach passes, finally, although it is the furthest thing from beach weather you can imagine. Hope springs eternal, even if spring doesn’t.

*GLEE’S VERSION WAS AWFUL. AWFUL. AWFUL. I liked Haley’s better on American Idol and that is SAYING SOMETHING. Oh, Adele. You are, indeed, incomparable. (I love her.)

How ridiculous is it that one of the first things I do when I see a hot musician/actor/celebrity of any kind is check to see if he’s, a) gay; b) married? LIKE IT MATTERS. It’s not as though I’m not (happily) married, and it’s not as though I’m going to be trolling the streets of … LA, I guess? … meet these people, so honest to GOD, who gives a rip about whether they would find me attractive and/or are married to someone else? Oh, this is such flawed, broken logic, and yet it persists.

So! Healthcare bill passed! I … well, look, I was for the bill, mostly, although I wanted it to go further (pinko commie ahoy!), and I promise, I’m not going to proselytize (although I have to admit that I have no tolerance for this kind of crap whatsoever. Save the drama, ye pamphlet-makers. Liberty is alive and well. It survived Medicare, y’all!).

But listen, dudes, I know I’m a political junkie and believe me, I’ve watched my fair share of C-SPAN — for God’s sake, we got the SPECIAL PACKAGE of extra channels only so that we could get all THREE levels of C-SPAN! (And Biography. Adam loves the Biography channel.) But yesterday? I watched ELEVEN AND A HALF HOURS of C-SPAN. I watched so much C-SPAN that I dreamed about being on the floor of the House. I dreamed about John Boehner more than anyone should. I woke up all SWEATY thinking I was yielded one minute and I farted into the microphone instead of speaking, true effing story.

And ultimately, I fell asleep before that grand moment where Nancy Pelosi smacked the gavel (“HEED THE GAVEL!”) and was all, “IT PASSED!” But you know what? It doesn’t even matter. Because after eleven and a half hours of that crazy-ass shit, the only, and ladies and gentlemen, I mean the ONLY, thing that would be even SLIGHTLY satisfying would be if Pelosi and Boehner wrapped up the evening in some kind of joint striptease, followed by public fornication on the damn FLOOR OF THE CHAMBER.

NO ONE SHOULD WATCH ELEVEN HOURS OF C-SPAN. NOT EVEN CONGRESSMEN.

I’m not sure I even want to say this, as it’s not something I’m proud to admit, but dudes, I’ve been working out EVERY DAY. EVERY DAY. FOR A LONG TIME. And though my body IS noticeably different than it was at, say, Thanksgiving, and my endurance is pretty freakin’ amazing vs. when I first started. (Level 3 of the Shred? I don’t sweat. Or even breathe that hard.) And my diet! Is very healthy! Like, as healthy as I’m willing to go long-term, so … this is kind of it. I mean, I’m at a sustainable, healthy diet, and I exercise every day. I’m eating healthier and working out more than when I lost 30 pounds last year, I swear to God.

SO WHY DON’T MY OLD PANTS FIT? THAT’S ALL I WANT, INTERNET. I don’t care about the scale. I don’t even care about what I look like! I feel good, and I think I look fine. I just don’t want to have to buy more GODDAMN PANTS. I mean, I can get through back to back levels of the Shred and I kick ass at Banish Fat, Boost Metabolism, and … oh fuck me, I think I have to buy more pants.

One last hopeful question: Could it be because I’m still nursing? I was not one of those mythical people for whom the pounds just FLEW OFF when I breastfed. In fact, I gained weight.

Side note: I’m still nursing. My kid is more than a year old. You could knock me over a feather with this fact. She IS starting to show signs of weaning (GROSSEST WORD EVER) herself, so it’s not like I’m going to REALLY shock myself by nursing until she’s eleven, but … still. I will have nursed her for well over a year when all is said and done. I was so nervous about breastfeeding and was prepared with formula and I donated it all. I … well, this is shocking to me, I don’t know why.

And finally: I am going to BlogHer. Have I mentioned this before? This is my first year, and the first time I’ll be meeting most of you who are going. Oh yes, I’ve met bloggers before — plenty of them! And, if I say so, it’s always gone swimmingly, if slightly awkward at first. (Me, not them.) And here’s the thing that even THEY don’t know: I am very shy in large groups, and it manifests itself in one of two ways: Either I am VERY CHATTY to the point of wondering if I am EVER going to shut up, like, EVER. Or I become super-reserved and hang around the periphery, so inwardly focused that I won’t even SEE YOU if you wave or approach me or anything like that. Ergo, sometimes I come across as a total snobby douche. At one of my workplaces, during one drunken sales event, a longtime colleague admitted to me that he thought I was super-cold, unapproachable and just plain mean. Oh, and that I thought I was too good for everyone. Which, oh my God, NO HO HO.

I’m not! I’m not! But I’m nervous that’s how I will APPEAR, because I will be NERVOUS and then everyone will think I’m a big SNOB who thinks she’s too COOL for everyone and is CLIQUEY, as you all imagine me in some private party where they give out gold ingots in big, supersecret swag bags, when really, I’ll be in my room, breathing into a paper bag and watching TV. (Note: my roommate is my girl Jennie. I’m sure you’ll agree that this is a SHOCKING choice. Why, I hardly know her!)

So now you know. I’m shy in large groups. Like, SUPER SHY. And again, people who know me in a SMALL group setting may find this SURPRISING, but OH JUST YOU WAIT!

Happy Tuesday!

*Are you ready for this? THE LAURIE BERKNER BAND. SOUNDTRACK OF MY LIFE. I WILL NEVER BE COOL AGAIN.

So there was a time, once, when I considered myself to be a smart person. Then, sadly, I took the Jeopardy online test and was rendered a drooling cro magnon, because GEEZUZ, you guys, that shit is HARD. How is it possible that a show — a show I consistently ROCK, I hasten to add — can be so DISCERNING in its search for contestants?

The format is this: they just start THROWING questions at you — oh, excuse me, ANSWERS, which is such Jeopardy bullshit — and you have fifteen seconds to answer them, and oh. Oh dear. I couldn’t even figure out that there were categories until it was too late, and look, I’m just going to say that during one particularly horrific, panic-stricken moment there was a clue about some desert that Chile and Peru are (were?) fighting over, and I misread it as dessert, as in who was claiming … origin, maybe? And I just typed, “CREME BRULEE” because THAT sure sounds Chilean, don’t you think?

What I’m telling you is that you should not expect to look for me on Jeopardy anytime soon, and that if you DO know someone who is on Jeopardy who does not wear a pocket protector and/or spend their entire days studying obscure facts about Russian politicians of the 18th century, you should be in fucking AWE.

CREME BRULEE.

Bullets! Because I am tired:

— LOST is back on next Tuesday for the final season. Lost! LOST LOST LOST LOST. And I am hopeful that it will be fraught with lots of JACOB, because I find Jacob weirdly attractive, even though the first time we were introduced to Jacob — or rather, the actor who PLAYS Jacob — was when he was Rita’s abusive husband in the first (second?) season of Dexter. And it will be, sadly, the last time we see Sayid in character. So much hotness. So little time left.

— Few things seem less pointless to me than giving up caffeine or salt. I realize that for some people, they are unhealthy habits, but you will pry the salt shaker from my cold, dead hands (or when high blood pressure kicks in, whichever comes first) and dude, coffee has ANTIOXIDANTS, no kidding, and the health benefits far outweigh the risks, in my opinion. (And several medical professionals as well.) Further, when I recently saw green tea recommended as a substitute for caffeinated beverages and coffee, it was all I could do not to laugh, because yes, green tea is good for you, but, um, it is caffeinated. Highly so. So while yes, green tea is awesome, I must heartily and happily say that, hey, coffee is, too.

This bullet point sponsored by Keurig. (NOT REALLY.) (I ONLY WISH.) (KEURIG, CALL ME. WILL SHILL FOR K-CUPS.)

— I’ve been holding out on you with my most inappropriate, odd crush, and I can’t keep it in any more. You know those Free Credit Report commercials? With the jingle? And the guy in the, um, mullet? Him. Yes, him. I find him strangely attractive, particularly in the most recent ANNIVERSARY ad, if you will, and … oh forget it, it’s too awful to elaborate on, but yes, Free Credit Guy, this one’s for you.

— An update on the Pampers situation: They gave me my money back. And, uh, frankly, it was a little too easy, which means THEY KNOW. They know the new Cruisers suck and they’re BUYING US OFF. I’m onto you Pampers! I should start a crazy-ass campaign/crusade and act like a total lunatic on Twitter and start a Facebook group and comment in baby forums about how PAMPERS CONSIDERS ME THE ENEMY and … oh, wait.

(Sadly, it’s true. They’re totally buying people off so we don’t flip out on them. Dude, I didn’t even have to give them a RECEIPT to prove what I paid for them. They just fired me off a check, and I didn’t even have to ASK. They were, within five seconds of the call, “Well, let us reimburse you for those diapers!” ORILLY PAMPERS?)

(I’m done with Pampers. Forever. Up yours, PG&E I mean, P&G (wow, someone watched Erin Brockovich one too many times). But you are also totally right that if you DIDN’T reimburse me, things would be even more hideous. Am sheep!)

— Still shredding. Can now move quadriceps, but my calves are still screaming in agony after cardio circuit one and it’s the ONLY THING that will force me to stay at level 1 for the entire month. THE ONLY THING. Well, that, and I’d like to live. That, too.